by Tracey Ward
“Do you want me to lift you up on my shoulders?”
She wrinkles her nose at me. “I’m not a toddler, Grayson.”
“Aren’t your pants from the little girl’s clothing stock?”
“I should never have told you that.”
“I could have guessed it.”
“You could forget about it.”
I grin. “But I never will.”
She shakes her head, feigning annoyance.
I know it’s fake when I feel her hand brush against mine, hidden from the crowd by our bodies. She twines her thin fingers through my own, squeezing softly.
A band in the corner breaks into song, sending the crowd into a frenzy.
Liv squeezes my hand painfully.
“Is it happening?” she asks eagerly.
“Not yet. The Mayor isn’t in front of the doors. He’ll give the signal to open them.”
“I’ll love it, right?” She nods her head, not waiting for my reply. “I’ll love it. I’m going to love it.”
I chuckle, wishing I could hug her. “You will. You’ll love it so much you’ll never want to leave.”
She looks at me sideways, her eyes guarded. “What if I did?”
“What if you did what?”
“What if I loved it here so much I never wanted to leave? Is that even an option?”
“I don’t know,” I answer numbly, distancing myself from the question. From the possibilities. She’s never said anything like this before, but I’ve thought it. I’ve wondered if she’s thought it too. “You’d have to talk to the Mayor. Ask his permission, but I don’t know why he wouldn’t let you.”
She nods her head silently, her eyes scanning the crowd. Her face gives nothing away and I feel myself start to twitch. I want to pace. I want to run. I want to get outside and see the sky, drink the air until it freezes my lungs to brittle, broken shards of ice that cut me clean through. Anything to break past this unknown. This uncontrollable feeling of Fate spinning a web around me that I can’t see and I can’t escape. No matter what Liv chooses, it will change me. It will change everything because she has changed everything. She started the second she drifted into my boat, jarring me off course.
The crowd erupts in cheers as Mayor Gustafson steps in front of the doors. He greets the crowd. He says some inspirational words, probably the same ones he’s said his entire tenure as Mayor, which is as long as I’ve been alive and then some. A prayer is spoken. A nod is given.
The doors are opened.
They creak angrily in protest. The entire entryway shudders and groans, the floor vibrating like a tremor is tearing through it as the doors are coerced into obedience. Someone kills the lights, plunging us in darkness.
Liv tugs at my hand eagerly, pulling me forward with her. Toward the sliver of light that slices through the dark. A cold wind rushes in, sending gasps through the throng. Still we press forward. We pack in tighter, shoulder to shoulder, Liv’s back is against my chest. I can hold her now. No one will notice. No one will care. All eyes are focused forward on the expanding swathe of light casting a ghostly glow through the cave.
We move slowly. Feet march forward. Voices whisper excitedly. It takes a good ten minutes to get the entire crowd through the doors, but then we’re free. We’re through the bottleneck and out in the open. In the world.
It’s frozen over. It always is. White ice, white snow, white clouds, white moon. Shimmering white stars.
Liv looks up immediately, her eyes drinking it in for the first time. Her mouth hangs open, her hand limp in mine. Her breath comes out in small white puffs of air that twirl and dance on the wind, rushing up into the sky.
“Well?” I ask quietly. “What do you think?”
She blinks. Her eyelids flutter. A single crystal clear tear escapes from her eye, rolling down her face into her hair. “They’re beautiful,” she whispers breathlessly. “They’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
I smile, watching her cry. Watching her weep in the wind and the starlight, and I feel the same way. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my life.
“Do you want to see the sun rising?”
Liv looks at me, her eyes glistening like ice. “Is it coming up already?”
“It’s the only reason we can be out right now. The temperature is already starting to rise.” I gesture over my shoulder to the mountain behind me. “Do you see the glow?”
“Just barely.”
“Come on.” I take her hand, pulling her with me. “We’ll go up top. Get a better look.”
It’s not a long walk to the top of the mountain, but we run into a lot of trouble. Liv has never walked in snow before. She’s never set foot on ice, and by the time we’re halfway up I can’t take it anymore.
“We’ll be headed into the Eighth and the world will be on fire by the time we make it to the top of this mountain,” I grumble.
“On the upside the ice will be melted.”
“It’s not happening.”
I lean down to sweep her legs, gathering her in my arms. She yelps but she doesn’t protest. Instead she wraps her arms around my neck as I trudge us up the remainder of the hill. I’m exhausted when we get there but at least we get there.
We’re not alone. Around thirty people or so have gathered at the peak to look over the landscape. To see the low surrounding hills blanketed in snow, bathed in the weak yellow glow of early morning light. I set Liv down gingerly, giving her a view of the eastern horizon.
“It’s so… white,” Liv comments reservedly.
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
“I don’t think it’s either. I think it’s just different.”
“Different can be good, though.”
“Yes,” she agrees with a grin. “Different can be a very good thing.”
“We’re barely past the Sixth hour. It’ll start looking like the sky you know in about a week when we get to the Seventh.”
Liv lifts her eyes to the stars. “I like it the way it is. I wish it could stay like this forever.”
“You’d always be cold,” I warn her.
“This is worth it.”
“Do you wanna see the beach?”
She tenses, her lips pursing. “Do you think it’s okay? Is it… clear?”
“We’ll look down from up here,” I compromise. “If it looks like there’s any debris from the wreck we won’t see it up close.”
“But if there is anything down there?”
“We’ll take care of it, Liv. We’ll take care of them. I promise.”
She grins gratefully. I offer her my arm, letting her run her hands around my elbow for support as she slips and slides over the snow. There are some friendly faces on the peak. People who smile and wave, asking what Liv thinks of the night sky. She gushes happily about it like a kid at Christmas. It’s good practice for her. The holiday is only three weeks away, at the end of the Winter Celebration. Everything will be different then. The snow will be long gone. The ice all melted, dried up and evaporated into the air. The ground will turn brittle and crack. The beach will stink of hot brine, thick with salt and the stench of the sea being baked on high. It’s a whole other world on the other side of the morning hours.
The beach is clear as far as we can tell from up here. No bodies. No pieces of boat. No cargo. My guess is the vishers cleaned it up for us. It’s a fact I don’t mention to Liv. If her brother isn’t one of the men in Ambrios she doesn’t need to think about him being devoured by a monster. Or worse; his corpse being dragged back to a deep cave where it will be an afternoon snack when the sun sits high in the sky. Neither reality is appealing.
“How far west is Camdon?”
I suppress a sigh. This is a conversation we’ve had before. So many times. It’s been all facts and numbers that she can’t stop counting.
“Just under two thousand miles,” I remind her. “Snow plows from Porton will go with the cable crew tomorrow to start clearing the way for them to find the
break in the line. A crew from Ambrios will do the same thing. They’ll probably meet somewhere near the middle. But it’s not our crew. We can’t get you in with them, and even if we could no one wants to send you out on a week-long job with a bunch of strangers from the city. We’d never see you again.”
“But if he’s there in Camdon we’ll go get him?”
“If we get word he’s there, yeah. Mayor Gustafson has agreed we should go get him. It’ll be cutting it close but if they meet us half way we can make it back before it’s too hot.”
Her fingers flex on my arm, itching. Reaching. “Even if we don’t bring him here, just knowing he’s alive would be enough.”
“I know. And I really hope he is.”
Even though I don’t think it’s likely.
I’m not trying to be a jerk. It just seriously seems implausible that Gav is alive. I mean, what are the odds that out of the four survivors of that crash two of them would be siblings? I don’t know because I’m not good at math, but it seems unlikely. Then again, what do I know? Liv can’t even swim and she made it out alive. So I don’t voice my doubts to her. I don’t tell her he’s alive, either. I only tell her I hope and I encourage her to keep doing the same because there’s really nothing else that we can do. Nothing but wait.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Liv
Six days, seven hours, twenty-four minutes.
That’s how long they’ve been gone. That’s how long I’ve waited with my heart in my throat and my stomach in my shoes to hear that the lines are up. To hear the names of the survivors in Camdon. I’ve asked Captain Fuller for the transcript of his last communication with Camdon so many times that he finally wrote it out in tight angry script and handed it to me, shoving me out of his office and closing the door. I think he might have locked it.
That was two days ago.
Two days, four hours, ten minutes.
“You’ve gotta stop,” Grayson groans.
“Stop what?”
“Your leg,” Easton tells me gently. “You’re bouncing it. It’s jostling the table.”
I blush, slamming my heel down firmly on the floor. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“We know you’re stressed,” Grayson agrees.
I sit back, dropping my hands into my lap. “They’ve been gone so long.”
“How long again?”
“Six days, seven hours—“
“I was kidding,” Grayson interrupts with a grin. “Please don’t. Not again with the count. Never again.”
“I’m sorry,” I repeat.
Easton smiles patiently. “You don’t have to be sorry.”
“No, I’m being annoying. I’ve run off all of your friends.”
Tae raises his hand. “I’m still here.”
“That’s because you’re the best.”
“Yes, I am.”
“It’s not your fault.” Grayson guarantees. “Krysan is spending more time with Holster, trying to get closer with him since they’re ‘brothers’ and all. And Fren is trying to get closer with Mandy.”
“Isn’t that the girl that was engaged to Mason but slept with Holster?”
Easton chuckles. “You’ve been here too long. You know the drama.”
“It’s a small town. It’s hard not to.”
“Yeah, that’s why it’s hard to date someone one of your buddies hasn’t already been with,” Tae grumbles.
Easton growls in frustration. “For the last time, man, if you want to date her do it.”
“I can’t. You ruined her for me.”
“I kissed her. That’s it.”
“How many times? How often? For how long?” He jumps up suddenly. “It doesn’t matter. Even if it was just once I won’t be able to kiss her without feeling like I’m kissing you.”
Easton smirks. “It was more than once.”
“Shut up.” Tae storms off, taking his tray with him.
“And then there were three…” Grayson sings quietly.
I shake my head. “That one’s not on me. That was all Easton.”
“Nah,” Easton smiles, “that was all Leslie. And it was worth it.”
“Gross.”
“What’s that for?” he demands defensively.
“I don’t know, but I’m sure you do.”
Grayson snorts. “I’m sure Leslie does.”
Easton smears his toast through his eggs slowly, looking between me and Grayson with pensive eyes.
I don’t like that look.
“What about you two?” he asks quietly. “You two done anything gross yet?”
Grayson freezes mid-bite. I blush, my face catching fire like I doused myself in kerosene and kissed a torch.
Easton waits for an answer patiently, his face impassive.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I tell him slowly. Carefully.
“You’re a terrible liar.”
“Am I? Are you sure? Or am I the best at lying?”
“No, you’re the worst,” he answers matter-of-fact.
I slump in my seat. “Fine. We’re dating.”
“Liv,” Grayson snaps, his eyes flashing.
“He already knows!”
“He thought he knew.”
Easton smiles. “But now I know I know.”
“And he didn’t until you admitted it.”
I frown at Easton. “You played me?”
“Like a drum,” Grayson mutters, pushing his plate away.
I blush even deeper, embarrassed by how easily I was duped. “Well, whatever.”
“That’s your reaction? After two months of keeping this thing hidden you’re shrugging this off with a ‘whatever’?”
“You didn’t keep it hidden very well,” Easton amends. He points to my face. “This gave it away.”
Grayson nods. “The blushing. I know. It’s her tell. It’s a big one.”
“It’s my face,” I snap. “What do you want me to do about it?”
“Nothing. It’s perfect.”
“And that,” Easton points out emphatically, moving his finger to Grayson. “You’re too nice to her. You’re not that nice to anyone else.”
“That’s because I don’t like anyone who’s not her.”
“That’s literally everyone else in the world.”
“It is literally everyone else in the world, yeah,” he agrees ardently, his eyes laughing.
“Well, if you want to keep this thing a secret from anyone else you better lock it down,” Easton advises. “Cool it with the smiling. Quit saying things that make her blush. Stop being so nice all the time.”
Grayson straightens his face, a familiar scowl forming on his brow. “You look fat in that shirt.”
“Your haircut is stupid,” I fire back calmly.
“You’re short.”
“Your feet smell like rotten wheat.”
He blinks. “What does rotten wheat smell like? Is that even a thing?”
“Sniff your foot and find out.”
“Pass. Your hair smells like candy.”
I laugh. “That’s not an insult.”
“No, but it’s the truth. It’s nice.”
I smile, blushing uncontrollably.
Easton sighs, lifting his tray. “You guys are hopeless. Enjoy your charade. No one is buying it.”
I wait until he’s gone, until the pink has faded from my cheeks, to turn to Grayson seriously. “Do we care if people know?”
“Only certain people.”
“How much do we care?”
“Not much. Just enough.”
“Enough to keep me from coming over there to curl up in your arms where it’s warm.”
“Enough to keep me from kissing you, because I really, really want to right now.”
My heart slows lazily, sliding into a gear I didn’t even know I had. Not until I met him.
I smile. “But there you sit on the other side of the table.”
“Other side of the world for all the goo
d it does me.”
“Maybe we should care a little le—“
“Ms. Pamuk.”
My dreaming heart kicks into high gear, lurching into my throat. Grayson stands immediately, his body going straight to attention.
“Sir,” he greets Captain Fuller formally.
Fuller nods to him. “I have good news,” he tells me, his face closer to happy than I’ve ever seen it.
I stand as well, bumping the table. My cup tips, milk spilling over the smooth surface, dripping down onto the floor. “Is it about the lines? Is it Gav?”
“Yes.”
“Yes to what? To which part?”
“To all of it. To the lines. To your brother.” He hands me a small scrap of paper. The same kind his original communications with Camdon were written on. “It’s been confirmed. Gav Pamuk is one of the survivors in Camdon.”
I can’t breathe. I can’t see. I can’t think. My hand clutches around the paper, wrinkling it terribly. It protests, the edges pinching at my skin, biting into my palm.
Grayson is next to me. He’s talking, low and soothing, unclenching my fingers one by one. He puts his arm around my waist to steady me, holding the wire in his free hand.
“Communication received prior to breakdown: ‘Eventide Livandra Pamuk rescued in Gaia. Requesting identities on fellow Eventide in Camdon.’ Response: Maureen Iyer. Harlan Jain. Gavriel Pamuk.” Grayson pauses, his arm tightening around me. “Liv, he’s there. He’s alive. Your brother is alive.”
I bury my face in my hands, sobbing uncontrollably. I can’t make it stop. It’s everything. It’s six months of wondering and worrying. It’s me in the water shouting his name. It’s lightning striking the ship. It’s my mother dying. It’s my father leaving us for dead.
It’s my brother. It’s my sun. My light.
And he’s alive.
***
Six days, eight hours, forty-five minutes.
“We won’t be going to collect him.”
“I—wait.” I shake my head, confused. “I’m sorry, Mayor. We can’t go get him?”
“No, I’m sorry to say we can’t,” he replies gently. “There’s no time. Not anymore. We’re on the cusp of the Seventh hour. The Morgantide have been spotted in the east. The souk crew will be leaving tomorrow with every truck we have. There’s none to spare, and no one can walk the two thousand miles to Camdon in a week. Even if you chose to stay there you wouldn’t make it. The Eighth would be upon you well before you reached the city. You’d die in the heat not halfway there.”